Radiant
by ncfan
Summary: The lost son returns.


I own nothing.

* * *

_There were few among the court who had not made the journey on the _Dawn Treader_, who truly believed that the King's new Queen was the daughter of a Star. She was fantastically beautiful; they were all agreed on that, and her bearing was so regal that for the love of their King none among his courtiers and advisors raised objections about her not being of the nobility. This business about her father being a Star must have been exaggeration, or metaphor; Star may well have simply been a foreign title of some kind that the young King took too seriously._

_But goodness knows, the Queen was so strikingly beautiful that anyone who looked at her could understand why the King thought her to be the daughter of a Star. There seemed to be a faintly glowing light radiating from the strands of her golden hair and her fair, clear skin. When the Queen stepped into a darkened room, suddenly it seemed brighter again. Her voice chimed like the gentle wind coming up from the south. Her eyes were as green as the first shoots of spring peeking out from the melting snow._

_Many years after the young King returned to Narnia with his Queen, they were blessed with a child, Prince Rilian. The Star's grandson never glowed quite as brightly as his mother did, never seemed to be imbued with the same strength of light. But he was radiant, just as handsome as the Star's daughter was beautiful, just as green-eyed and golden-haired._

_The King, by this time no longer a young man, doted upon his dear child, upon his only son and heir. Rilian, a good-hearted, kindly lad, grew to be a good-hearted, kindly young man and a valiant knight, beloved by all._

_Then, in the twentieth year of the Prince's life, he went a-Maying with his mother and certain other members of the court. In the north of Narnia, they chose to rest and sup in a pretty glade where a fountain flowed freely from the earth. After some time of merriment, the Queen chose to rest by the fountain, and the rest of her party went to sit some ways away from her, so that she could rest undisturbed._

_However, while her son and their companions were making merry, a great serpent slithered out of the dense forest and bit the Queen upon her hand. Her cry drew the attention of her companions, but it was too late. The Queen died in her son's arms, and Prince Rilian could only watch as the serpent, green and shining, slid away, too quick for his sword strikes._

_In the weeks that followed, the Prince was beside himself with grief and rage, and nothing and no one, not even the word of his beloved father, the King, could dissuade him from riding out into the north of Narnia, again and again, searching for the serpent who had slain his mother. Then, a month into his searching, he rode to the north one day, and did not return. Great was the grief of his father the King, who within the space of a month had lost both his beloved wife and his dearly loved only son and heir. Many searched for the Prince, but to no avail. Those who searched often did not return, and eventually, with a heavy heart the King called them off their searching._

_And nothing has been seen of him since._

-0-0-0-

_Where have you gone, my son? Vanished to the north, like mist burning off the surface of the sea? Back to the land from whence your mother came? Or to Aslan's country, where all must go when their days here are done? Is that the only place where I will ever see you now, in the place free of all shadows?_

_How I wish it wasn't so._

When King Caspian, Tenth of his name, returned to Narnia in the winter, he could no longer rise from his bed, and would have to be carried off of his ship on a litter, once they docked. He was not a young man, it was true, but the loss of his wife and child had aged him twenty years in a night, and this fruitless voyage had taken the last of his strength. He stared up at the gray sky, silent and still as one who was already a corpse, and listlessly waved away a page meekly offering him wine, wishing to be left alone with his thoughts.

There had been rumors that Aslan was lodging in Terebinthia. Caspian wished to seek him out, to seek his advice on who was to be King after him, if not his son. The thought that Rilian was truly dead, gone beyond recall, was one that made his heart grow cold and leaden in his breast, but he could not simply act as a father, waiting at the hearth for his vanished son. As the King of Narnia, it was his duty to secure the succession, and, in the event of having no direct heirs, to select one among his lords to be King after him so that the country would not fall into crisis after his death. But for that, he needed Aslan's counsel; no monarch of Narnia whose reign was not blessed by the Lion would ever truly be considered a legitimate ruler.

Aslan was not in Terebinthia. So from there, Caspian journeyed on to the Seven Isles, and then on to the Lone Islands, searching for the Lion, but never did he catch so much as a glimpse of Aslan, nor did he ever hear a roar that was more than the roaring of the surf. Aslan was not a tame lion; he did not come at the behest of a mortal King. But with every island on which Aslan could not be found, Caspian's heart grew heavier. And now, they were to sail home without having resolved the issue, and King Caspian could not in his heart bear to disinherit his son, even after having given the Prince up as dead for years.

When Rilian had been a young boy, as soon as he was considered old enough to start to learn sword craft, he had cherished in his heart the idea of wielding Rhindon, sword of the High King Peter of the Golden Age. Rilian had been raised on his father's stories of the Kings and Queens of the Golden Age, and the idea of wielding the sword of one of those Kings filled his heart with rash eagerness.

"_Rhindon is the sword of the King—or Queen—of Narnia, my son. It will be yours when you are King. For now, I'm confident you will be content with what is provided to you by your honorable instructor."_

Rilian had looked disappointed then, his mouth turning downwards ever so slightly in the childish pout he was starting to outgrow. But then he'd tipped his head up and smiled, smiled that radiant smile, and…

Caspian has since forgotten what Rilian did next. It was the image of that smile that remained preserved in memory. That smile, though bestowed upon him more than twenty years ago, seemed more present and more real than what had transpired in the past week. Rilian and his mother left the world dark in his eyes when they departed. Nothing since ever seemed as gay or lively as it did before.

_Where have you gone? Where do you make your home now? If you have passed beyond to Aslan's Country, where can I find your body, to at least bring it home to be laid to rest? Am I not to be allowed that much, at least?_

For the first few months after Rilian vanished, every time Caspian saw a head of golden hair or the flash of green eyes, his son's name was on the tip of his tongue, and for one foolish, glorious moment, he could believe that he would be able to welcome his son home, that his lost child had come back to him. This impulse and the anguish it caused him, dissipated some over the years, but in the past months that same impulse has returned to him, and has been growing stronger with every day. Is this a sign of his impending death? Does his son's spirit perhaps hover about him, waiting until the point when he dies, to shepherd him on to Aslan's Country himself?

_But oh, if I could just know that he was alive…_

Since the day that Drinian had come to him bearing his tale of the Prince's fate, Caspian had cursed his own inattention. He had, of course, been aware of Rilian's constant riding into the North. He had known—or thought he had known—that he did so in the attempt to seek out the serpent who had killed the Queen. And Caspian had attempted to dissuade his son from such a goal, out of fear that after losing his Queen to the beast, he would lose his only child to this serpent as well.

"_Child, it does you no good to seek vengeance against a beast who knew not what it did. It serves nothing. Killing the serpent will not give you back the life of your mother, and it will only put your own life in peril."_

Drinian could only bear so much blame in this affair. Caspian had noticed Rilian's change in demeanor in the days leading up to his disappearance. If he, Rilian's own father, had paid closer mind to the boy, he would have realized that this was no natural change. Surely, if he had paid closer attention, if he had watched Rilian more closely, he would have realized how patently unnatural Rilian's suddenly jovial manner was. He might have been able to prevent all of this, the disappearance of the Prince, the disappearance of nearly all those who rode out to rescue him, and the ensuing succession crisis. He might have been able to save his son's life.

And now, at the last, he was an old man laid low by grief and guilt and a failing body. His kingdom would face uncertainty when he died; unless he was able to name an heir who would be blessed by Aslan, then upon Caspian's death Narnia would dissolve into a war of succession, the nightmare that now haunted his every waking moment. And even if he did name an heir, one who would be blessed by Aslan, Narnia might still be engulfed by warring factions who did not recognize the new monarch's legitimacy. This was the nightmare of every King and Queen who had ever ruled Narnia, from the Progenitors and their line, to the monarchs of the Golden Age, to the rulers of the Dark Age, and now to the Telmarine Dynasty. Who was to rule after him? Who would guide Narnia, after he was gone?

Suddenly, there came the jolt that signaled that the ship had docked. Caspian barely felt it, and did not heed the cries of the crewmen, either the Lords, the pages, or the common sailors, both human and Beast. He just continued to stare up at the winter sky, gray in some places, blindingly white in others, but so drab, so lifeless. Nothing had seemed to have quite the color it was supposed to since Rilian was taken from him. Now would be no different.

As it stood, he was an old man at the end of his life, full of regret and waiting to die, and despairing at what would happen to his kingdom when he did. That same old man did not respond as the litter he lied on was lifted into the air some time after the ship docked. Caspian could not die content. He would die, certainly, but he would do so laden with fear and regret.

If he could have just one word, just one assurance of his son, he could die content. If Rilian was alive, Caspian would die ecstatic, but even if he was dead, at least the confirmation would be _something_. At least he would have closure, at least he would finally be able to put the shadow of his lost Prince to rest. Maybe he would even have enough time to name an heir. And maybe then, he would be able to die without regret.

But as it stood, he could do none of this. His heart was faltering and he had no strength to rise from his bed. All he could do now was die.

There was a crowd gathered at the dock, but King Caspian paid them no heed. The musicians played on their horns and trumpets, but he paid them no heed either, nor did he notice as, one by one, their instruments fell silent. He did not notice as a hush fell over the crowd. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary, until a shadow fell across his face.

Caspian shifted his head to look to his right. He did not know why he did so, only that there was some strange inclination in him, that told him that he needed to look.

His bleary eyes took a few moments to focus sharply, but once they did he could see that a man stood to his right. This man was clean-shaven and still young in years, but deathly pale, his cheeks hollow and bereft of color. He was richly dressed, in scarlet and mail; a Lord, then, some son of the nobility.

Caspian noticed none of this. What he noticed was simple. He saw eyes as green as the first shoots of spring, peeking up beyond the snow. He saw dim light glowing beneath the young man's skin, radiating faintly from every strand of golden hair.

He saw his radiant son, returned to him at the last.

His faltering heart began to pound in his chest; Caspian tried to rise from his litter, but could not find the strength within him. All he could do was stretch out his right hand, vision blurring again as his eyes filled with tears. Rilian looked so pale, as white as the first fresh snowfall of winter. Was he some ghost then, some shade, come to take him to Aslan's country after all? _After all these years, you have come back to me. If you are shade, lost to death, then take me with you now, to wherever we may go. Take me to that place I have always longed to see. I can think of no better companion._

The young Prince hesitated. He was past his thirtieth year now—_Thirty and one. He is thirty and one now, if he is not shade._—but in that moment all the years seemed to be shed from his skin, and he looked like a young boy once more, out of place in chain mail and scarlet. Then, he reached forward, and took his father's hand. Rilian was pale, so pale, but his hand was warm. All the calluses of swordplay were gone from him, and his flesh was as smooth as a child's. Caspian could feel his racing heartbeat beneath his skin.

He was alive, after all.

Joy, poignant, bittersweet and deep as all the memories he has held in his breast, rose in Caspian's heart. Rilian smiled down at him, but he was growing paler with every second, and he began to shake. There was something, something so wonderful and so hard at the same time, something that Caspian wanted to say to him. He opened his mouth, but no sound would come up from his throat.

So, instead, with the last of his strength, Caspian lifted the hand he grasped to his lips, and hoped that this would say to Rilian all the things he could no longer give his voice to.

There was some color in the world again, radiant, as he died.


End file.
